The Cat And The Rat Poem

Asking Kittens,
Immersed in deep thought.
Why don’t mice sell, mother
In fairs or markets.
We ambush the bill,
They are sitting outside.
But defying the rat,
Keep tricking us.
Many nights have passed,
Days go in vain.
If rats were sold in the haat
Would have counted several dozen.
Even if we were found in the weight,
Fetch a quintal all over.
Having fun with carelessness,
In Teesta, at the festival.
Whenever a mouse was dying,
Used to sort it
Price, more fat, stronger,
We would have asked for mouth
If there was no value in the knot,
Lending goods in credit

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